


38. Do you believe in miracles

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [46]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But everyone else that dies dies, Established Relationship, M/M, Tybalt survives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: After the duel Benvolio and Tybalt are the only ones left. They are alive, but they have lost a vital part of their relationship. How can they go on just the two of them?





	

Benvolio used to enjoy silence. Mercutio was always such a loud presence, whether he actually spoke or not, and the moments when he stopped fidgeting and restlessly move about and just relax were few and dearly treasured. And when the three of them were together Mercutio and Tybalt always had to banter about something or the other, at least until Benvolio finally had enough and glared them both into sullen silence. Silence wasn't a regular commodity for Benvolio. 

Now he wished for anything but the crushing weight of the silence he had once treasured so. 

Tybalt sat upright in his bed, staring out through the window with his lips pressed tight together. He hadn't spoken since Benvolio entered the room, and from what the physician had said he would likely never again utter a word. From what Benvolio knew of Tybalt he surely thought it too light a punishment for what he had done. 

Benvolio had tried talking, when he first sat down next to the bed, and filled the room with meaningless words for a long time. He found himself drifting to the forbidden subject over and over again, and even though he stopped himself each time he could tell by Tybalt's tensing that he knew. There wasn't much to talk about that wasn't about the recent deaths, and Benvolio didn't have Mercutio's gift with words; he couldn't just ramble on for hours without a care, about this or that. Never before had he been envious of that gift, but now he found himself yearning for it so badly. Almost, but not actually anywhere near, as much as he yearned for the one with the silver tongue. 

Eventually he ran out of words, and could only sit mutely while Tybalt stared past him with empty eyes. The missing presence was painfully obvious, and it seemed that Benvolio's try to fill the silence had only made it even clearer what had been lost. And they had lost so much; so many precious parts of him were gone now, so many that Benvolio had forgotten what it felt like to not hurt. There hadn't been one day since the two lovers were found that he hadn't cried until he felt empty, and as his thoughts wandered he could feel his eyes watering again. 

A hand lightly touched his, and Benvolio looked up to meet Tybalt's heavy gaze. It was harder to do than he had expected, and the emotions he saw in those dark eyes made the tears fall down his cheeks. Grief, regret, and such an agonizing guilt that Benvolio felt floored. He wanted to reach out and take Tybalt in his arms, reassure his lover that it wasn't his fault, that everything would be okay, but instead he closed his eyes and gripped Tybalt's hand back. He couldn't bring himself to speak, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't completely ignore the resentment boiling in him—why had only _he_ survived? Mercutio wasn't even part of the original feud, and it wasn't him that Tybalt had challenged, so why was _he_ the one that died? And Romeo—his innocent, dreaming, romantic of a cousin—he had only wanted to spend time with his beloved, but instead he became a murderer, outlaw, and sinner, taking his own life in the end. Neither of them had deserved the cruelty fate bestowed upon them, so why had Tybalt been spared the same? Not only did he survive, but the Prince had decided to pardon Tybalt for his crime, because the city had seen enough of its youth die. 

It made him feel horrible, but Benvolio couldn't get rid of the feeling. It wasn't fair. He loved Tybalt, he did, but Romeo was dead. Mercutio, his Mercutio, the one person who seemed so far above something as mundane as mortality, was dead. And Benvolio couldn't see it any other way than as Tybalt's fault. 

But Tybalt was also the only one left that knew him, that knew all his secrets. They had shared so much, and alongside the resentment was the relief that he hadn't lost Tybalt as well. The feud was over now, and there was nothing to force them to keep their relationship a secret any longer. They could grieve together, and then they could help each other grow from what had happened. 

If they could, Benvolio thought as he looked down on their hands. Tybalt was looking away again, and the bandage around his neck was cruelly obvious. There was no way of forgetting what had been done, not when there would be such an obvious reminder. But there was nothing he could say, no sweet lies or harsh truths, or even senseless comforting words. There was only silence. 

Oh, Benvolio hated the silence.


End file.
